Why I Robbed
by Celtic karate
Summary: I was watching the movie and wondered why Kate started to rob, and came up with this little bit. The second part links it back to the 'present' time. Rating is strong T
1. Chapter 1

Why I robbed

I was a school teacher. In a town owned by one family, and because of this, there was no money to spend on the schoolhouse. I made due with what I had and kept trying to get even a little more out of the Walker family. Everyone in town called me Miss Katherine, that's my name: Katherine Barlow, school teacher.

Eventually I came up with a way to get my schoolhouse fixed. I'd trade my spiced peaches to Sam, the Onion Man for labor on the schoolhouse. After a few times I started finding things for him to do; just to have his company, which I was finding I liked more than most. By working on the building he learned poetry and how to read; though writing was difficult. Slowly I found myself falling in love. With a man forbidden to love me back. Though that didn't stop him, I thought. But whenever I think about that stupid law; my heart breaks a little more, for what does the color of one's skin truly say about his character or his ability to love me. I loved Sam because he was kind and sweet. I didn't live in the schoolhouse, just worked there. I lived in a room owned by a nice couple who ran the corner store.

One day, a heavy rain came through the town, the smell reached my nose inside the schoolhouse; I was grading papers, trying to pass the time until the rain eased up to return to my room.

"Onions! Hot sweet onions!" Sam called, out on the street. I felt my heart not only lift, but skip a beat, even in its broken state. I wandered outside to see him and Mary Lou walking the dirt, well muddy, streets, trying to sell his wares. He came up to me when he could see me through the rain. And all I wanted to do was jump into his arms, but I was afraid, of everything from someone seeing us to him not returning my affection; though I was pretty sure he did. So instead I hugged Mary Lou. The tears falling from my face mixed with the rain falling from the sky. Hiding them, but Sam knew something was up.

"Is something wrong?" He asked me, his voice was a little rough from yelling, but it was still the voice I heard every time I closed my eyes. My eyes watered even more as I answered him.

"Oh Sam, my heart is breaking." I told him, and he could hear the tears in my voice.

"I can fix that." He told me. I watched him as he silently took my small, soft hands in is large calloused ones and kissed me. Now before and after the kiss I had read books where the author describes a kiss between lovers as fireworks on the Fourth of July. But this kiss with Sam was nothing like that. It was everything to me. From the second his lips touched mine, I could feel my broken heart mending, and my body filled with such joy; that before I had only known when one of my students, child and adult alike, had succeeded in something that was difficult for them; though this feeling far surpassed that.

We were so lost in our world, the world created by that kiss, that we didn't notice someone (to this day I still have no idea who saw us kissing) who saw what we were doing. When we broke for air, I pulled him and Mary Lou, with the onion cart behind the schoolhouse, where Sam and built an overhang that sheltered the back of the school from the rain. We tied the cart to a tree and Mary Lou to a post, before I pulled Sam back into the building. He had created a living space, so I could move to her schoolhouse and have a space that was truly my own.

The room had a bed, that if the two cuddled close together, both could fit. The bed was dressed in soft off white linens that could fit us both, if we slept close together. I walked over to a small chest and pulled out two towels, and handed one to him. Our fingers brushed as he took it from my hand, and I looked up and smiled at him. He returned the smile.

Soon we found ourselves in another embrace. That embrace led to my bed, and when the next morning came, I was safe inside my soul's embrace. He was awake, I could feel his hand moving through my hair. I turned to face him and kissed him. This time it was me who started the kiss. When we broke for air I kissed his cheek before resting my head in the crook of his neck. His arms were still around me.

"I love you Sam." I told him.

"I love you Kate." He told me, and I smiled at the nickname. Before this moment I had never let anyone call me anything besides my full name or last name. But the work 'Kate' sounded so sweet and full of love as it rolled off of his lips, that I just kissed him again.

Eventually we got up and he watched as I dressed for the day; the students should show up her within the next couple hours. Then I sat on the bed, brushing my hair as I watched Sam dress in his now dry clothes from the other day. I walked him to the back door and watched as he pulled the covers off of the wagon and he noticed it was empty; he would have to go to his onion field and get more onions. He then turned and saw me, giving Mary Lou a little attention and he came up to me and once again kissed me. He saddled Mary Lou up to the cart and returned to my side.

"I'm planning on going to my onion field tomorrow, so I'll be checking on my boat today. I'll come see you after your evening lessons let out." He told me and kissed me for a final time that morning. I watched as the two headed to the shed by the lake where Mary Lou would stay if Sam didn't take her to the lake.

It rained a little that morning. Not a storm like the night before, but a light downpour that normally would have brought the children out to play. But still no one came; not a single child. I wondered if it was Saturday; for it could very well have been, for all I could think about was Sam, his kisses and his hands.

The sun came out and dried the muddy roads and it was a beautiful day.

My day came crashing around me around lunchtime. Someone had seen me and Sam kissing yesterday, and now there was a mob, led by an angry and jealous Trout Walker. They destroyed my schoolhouse. All of Sam's hard work, gone. All gone, in the blink of an eye.

I ran to the Sheriff, but the drunken bastard was no help. I had one choice left. Sam and I needed to leave. I knew he was planning on making sure his boat was ready for his trip to his onion field. So that meant hauling it out of the water to do leak checks and other stuff, that I had no idea. He would also take it for a quick spin to check the oars and their dock onto the boat. I really hoped that he hadn't gotten that far yet.

I dashed out of the Sheriff's office, but the mob saw me, the schoolhouse burning behind them. Tears streaming down my face; I bolted towards the lakeshore. Mary Lou was munching on grass near Sam, who was just putting his boat back into the water. He turned at the sound of my running feet. I threw myself into his arms, like I had wanted to yesterday, but for another reason entirely.

He caught me and for a moment I was safe, safe inside his strong, warm, and loving embrace. But then I remembered that if I wanted this embrace again, we had to get out of her.

"Someone must have seen us kissing yesterday," I said. "They set fire to the schoolhouse. The sheriff said he's going to hang you!"

Sam hesitated for a moment, as if he couldn't quite believe it. No he didn't want to believe it. "C'mon, Mary Lou."

"We have to leave Mary Lou behind," said Katherine.

Sam stared at her a moment. There were tears in his eyes. "Okay."

I loved him, that he loved me enough to leave his precious Familiar behind to get us to safety. I hoped and prayed that the mob would leave her alone.

We got into the boat and Sam's strong arms started rowing. But it wasn't enough. The mob saw us on the lake and ran to Trout's motorboat, and soon I heard the roar of its engine and saw the black smoke coming from the coal it burned.

I knew we'd never make it, and that if Trout didn't shoot Sam, the sheriff would hang him. So I did the only thing I could think of to do. I leaned over in the boat and kissed him for one last time. He kissed me back, and stopped rowing, for he too knew the futility in trying to escape, where none could be found, and kissed me back.

This kissed held desperation. We needed to know that we loved the other, we needed to give each other whatever we could give. The passion in the kiss, the real, true love, rivaled the kissed we shared the night before while we joined. And I'm glad that we shared that last kiss. I've never been able to bring myself to regret it. Only that it was the last.

When we ran out of air and broke the kiss he pushed me down and I heard the gunshot. I looked up in time to see Sam collapse in my arms, blood blossoming in his throat. I cradled him in my arms, his head on my shoulder. The blood was now starting to fall from his mouth as his throat pushed it up into his mouth. His hands touched his throat, his fingers soaking up his blood.

My hand found its way to his neck, thinking in vein to stop the bleeding, but it was already too late. His blood soaked hand reached up and traced my lips, a smile on his face for me. Only for me. I felt his blood on my lips, but I didn't care. I felt Trout's boat run into us and leant down to give him all I could give him now.

"I love you, for always and eternity." Before giving him one last kiss, taking his last breath of air into me, my body. When he died, I just held him, for what felt like years until Trout yanked me onto his boat, which was taken back to shore.

All I remember, to this day is arriving back at the shore to see Mary Lou's body shot in the head. My tears kept flowing for days.

I spent the next three days in my room above the corner store. The tears finally ran dry, and in their place was an all-consuming need for revenge. So on the fourth day after Sam's death I dressed in my red dress and rode my father's horse to the Sheriff's office.

That day was the day I killed someone directly. I shot him then kissed him, leaving a red lip print on his cheek, to mirror the mark of Sam's blood on my lips. I rode away and sold everything but a pair of boots, a couple canteens and a few change of clothes.

I waited until dark and snuck back into the little jail and freed the two men who'd seen me kill the Sheriff. If they weren't with me, they were a liability. Three horses later and the three of us headed out of Green Lake and through the Desert.

Five days later we made it to their farm. A women, one's sister and the other's wife was waiting. We stayed there for a few weeks, the two of them planning their next hit. Apparently, the only reason they got caught was because the sheriff recognized them as they were buying Lizard Juice from Sam. The women was happy to have female company.

Three weeks later, the boys had gone out on a hit, and I woke up not feeling too good. It had passed by noon, so I had only thought that it was a result of my grief. But it continued for the next week. Eventually, my host noticed and that night she brought her mother to see me.

The elder woman told me I was a couple weeks pregnant. My one night with Sam, my love, gave me a precious child. But I knew that no one would help me care for a half-black child no matter what the circumstances were. I resolved to do anything needed to care for my and Sam's child. Sam's child. Just those two words brought a smile to my face.

From that point forward, I became the two men's mastermind. I planned every hit, had them sit on their target and gather information, even went in myself to get the layout. When the men hit the bank, they would scatter and lead any following cops away from the farm until they gave up. Then and only then would they return to the farm and us.

For nine months this happened and soon I gave birth to a wonderful little girl who I named Ezra Mary Laker. Ezra for Sam's mother, Mary for Mary Lou and Laker because she was Sam's child. I raised her in between joining the boys and when she was old enough I gave her a letter and let her stay with the woman who became her aunt. Me and my crew of two hit any and every bank we saw, I sent a portion of my cut to Ezra to help her make it through life. Her aunt moved them onto the Reservation after the farm was raided, she sent this in a coded message to us were we were hiding in the desert. I kept tabs on my daughter as I let the rest of my cut go to that reservation. Ezra always knew that I was a robber, but she never knew I was a murderer, kissing each of my victims, marking them with her father's blood. She also knew that I did everything for her.

The whole west learned to fear me, Kissin' Kate Barlow, without knowing of my past; just my deeds. Even the two men on my crew learned to fear me. And that fear kept them from gipping me my cut or getting rid of me.

20 years after Sam's death, my 19 year old daughter married, and asked that I stop robbing. I agreed, I only did it to take care of her. But now I was an outlaw. Ezra was safe as she had her father's last name and not mine. Nothing linked us or gave the authorities any hint or clue to watch her. I hope she lives her life the way she wants. So I took my boys one final hit, a carriage moving west across the desert near what used to be the town I used to call home. I couldn't kill the man, so I just left him to wander the desert and die that way. When we were about 16 days out from that hit; I killed my two crewmen. I didn't want them to spill the beans on me. I kissed their cheeks, marking Sam's blood for a final time before returning to my old home.

The lake had long since dried up, and the townspeople gone with it. The only things left alive were two oak trees that were older then the Walker family. The only building in decent condition was right next to the trees. It was an old cabin that the mayor occupied.

This is where I write this.

I've been here for three months tomorrow, and in that time I've grown cold. My heart kept beating for my daughter. Now that she's grown and no longer needs me. My heart finally shattered. I grew so cold, no matter how hot it got here in the Devil's frying pan that Green Lake had become. At night I cry and tell my soul, my Sam, how cold I am. And I hear him say: "I can fix that" and the warmth of his embrace that I had known for too short a time engulf me. And in those moments I am back in time and I am happy.

When I finish writing this, I'm putting it into the metal suitcase from my final hit and burying it. I'll leave it to its fate, and live out the rest of my life, however long that may be, until I can rejoin my love, my soul, my Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

Stanley Yelnats and Hector Zerroni read the missive one last time before passing it over to a historian for analysis. It was three years since Camp Green Lake and the adventure there. Sploosh was selling and his father had moved onto a new project. His mom was able to work where she wanted, and not where she needed.

The two best friends/ next door neighbors had kept a folder of what the appraisers had said was junk from the suitcase that had given the two families a new start. Every so often one of the two boys would try and work through the file, and while they never managed to make it through the entire folder, they did make some finds.

When they did make finds, and made a little money, a third would go to the one who didn't find it, while the other two-thirds went to the discoverer. This discovery was Stanley's and it was nearly at the bottom of the folder's papers.

So here they sat, in a Houston Museum, talking to a woman who'd expressed interest in the paper that could belong to the famous female robber from a century past. She examined the paper itself before moving on.

"Well I can tell you that, the paper is authentic. So that's a plus in the right column. Now onto handwriting." She told them and turned back to her examination of the note.

45 minutes later she spoke again.

"It belongs to Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow, all right. Handwriting matches. But what is truly interesting is that it answers a few questions local Historians had about our female robber. Her past was never truly known. It was speculated, but we could never confirm it. This dismisses most of the theories except for mine and a few others." She told him and Stanley sighed. It was hers, it was real. The woman started speaking again.

"If you give me a little while I might have a buyer for you to purchase this for one of the local museums." She told them and they both nodded after sharing a look. She smiled at the two of them and proceeded to preserve the missive and hand it back to them.

That night at the family dinner, the boys told the adults what happened, and everyone was relieved that it was real. Stanley and his grandfather discussed the robber and he shared the full story as told by the robber herself.

A month later the letter is displayed in the Houston Children's Museum. The museum paid a hefty price for the piece and both boys were happy with sum, and even happier with the historical answers they could get from that paper alone.

History remembered Sam Laker from that day forward.


End file.
